


Family is a High School Musical Sing-Along

by RadioStatic (RadioWaves)



Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Hilda is a good mom, episode 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioWaves/pseuds/RadioStatic
Summary: Hilda has a talk with Marc after he comes out to his mother.(A brief addition to S1 Episode 18- “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”).
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Family is a High School Musical Sing-Along

With his hand clasped firmly over his leaking eyes, he almost missed the click of footsteps. 

“So... we’re good people, huh?” Betty’s sister stopped across from him, arms crossed, eyebrow lifted. He managed a watery scoff. 

“Some of you. A few. Maybe just the kid.” 

He turned away, quickly wiping his eyes as if there could be a small chance these people had missed him sobbing like he’d just watched Brokeback Mountain for the first time. He heard her let out an amused breath. 

“Yeah, Justin’s an amazing kid.” She chewed on her lip for a moment, before she sighed. “And so are you, Marc. I heard what you said—“

“Oh please,” he interrupted. “Lies. All of it. You’re terrible. And if you tell ANYONE, I’ll deny it to my dying day.” 

“Sure.” She shrugged. “And if you tell anyone about this conversation, I’ll tell them you kissed my sister. I MEAN it.” 

He glared at her. “Touché.” 

“BUT- that woman who walked out on you just now? You don’t owe her anything. You did a brave thing tonight, and if she can’t get past her own stupid bias and act like a mother? She doesn’t get to be in your life. Good fuckin’ riddance, if you ask me. You shouldn’t have to apologise for who you love, and you shouldn’t have to hide from family. You’re gay, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. You deserve to be loved no matter what.”

He stared dumbly her, watching the way this woman drew herself up, staring at him fiercely, unabashed at her own candour. It hit him as he saw her son come down the stairs, as he watched her anger melt into something like love as she enveloped her boy into a hug and couldn’t stop a soft smile from spreading over her face. She was a mother. She was JUSTIN’S mother, and her speech came from a place of far more understanding than he’d originally pegged from her. 

He suddenly felt close to tears again. 

“Now—“ she grinned at him, one arm draped casually around her son’s shoulders. “You’re gonna come back into the sitting room with me and Justin, Papi is going to heat up the flan, and we’re gonna watch _High School Musical_ while Justin criticises Troy’s clothing choices. And you’d better join in the sing-along: Justin won’t let me do the duets anymore.” 

Justin rolled his eyes. 

“It’s because you don’t have the range for Sharpay, mom. You HAVE to have fabulous bitch energy for it!” 

She tapped him on the head. 

“Hey! Language! And that’s why I always let you do her parts.” 

They both looked at him, one imploring and one considering. He thought about walking to the subway in the cold night, with his eyes still red and his heart still raw. He thought about opening the door to his shitty, empty apartment and collapsing on the couch with the lights off and the telemarketing channel on until he could pick himself up again in the morning. He thought about Justin, and his mom who sang duets with her son and watched him “swish” around the place so boldly and unashamed and who still put her arm around him and held him like he was something precious, something to be proud of. He released a deep breath. 

“Oh fine. But I’m calling dibs on Ryan- he at least has style.” 

And just like that, something eased within himself as he lowered himself onto the couch- Betty’s sister and Justin sandwiching him on either side with no regard for personal space. He found himself relaxing onto the garish furniture as Justin squabbled with his mother over who got to sing Gabriella’s parts and Mr Suarez handed him a warm plate and watched them fondly from his armchair. 

He’d been right- his family definitely wasn’t like Betty’s family. But perhaps she’d been right as well... maybe the real family was the one you made for yourself. 


End file.
